The Black Monk and The Dog Problem: Two Plays

Praise for DAVID RABE and THE BLACK MONK

Rabe’s theatrical universe is at once vivid and mysterious, a pageant and a puzzle, where his bemused characters glimpse only the barest outline of … ‘the unrelenting havoc’ in which they flounder … [His] daringly stylized dramas hover in the realms between the natural and the metaphorical … Rabe is expert at building the awful pressure of impending woe.

—JOHN LAHR, THE NEW YORKER

"The Black Monk is a great play…. Mr. Rabe has heightened theatrical possibilities by extending descriptive passages into dramatic scenes that catch fire … a heady event."

—ALVIN KLEIN, THE NEW YORK TIMES

The Black Monk has been called a singular collaboration between two writers: Anton Chekhov and David Rabe. Based on Chekhov’s novella of the same name, Rabe’s brilliant stage adaptation tells the story of Kovrin, the young philosophy student who returns from Moscow to the estate owned by Pesotsky, where he spent his youth. Kovrin and Pesotsky’s daughter, Tanya, soon fall in love and plan to marry. But the appearance of an emissary from the unknown—the black monk—threatens to have a devastating effect on them.

Vastly different in their aesthetic, these two highly praised plays embody all of the celebrated hallmarks of David Rabe’s writing and art: unflinchingly honest and perceptive themes, starkly luminous dialogue, and the unsettling humor which have made him an icon of the American theater for more than forty years.

DAVID RABE is the author of many widely performed plays, including The Basic Training of Pavlo Hummel, Sticks and Bones, In the Boom Boom Room, Streamers, Hurlyburly, and The Dog Problem. Four of his plays have been nominated for the Tony Award, including a win for Best Play. He is the recipient of an Obie Award, the American Academy of Arts and Letters Award, Drama Desk Award, and the New York Drama Critics Circle Award, among others. His numerous screenwriting credits include I’m Dancing As Fast As I Can, Casualties of War, Hurlyburly, and The Firm.

Rabe is the critically acclaimed author of the novels Dinosaurs on the Roof and Recital of the Dog, and a collection of short stories, A Primitive Heart. Born in Dubuque, Iowa, Rabe lives with his family in northwest Connecticut.

ALSO BY DAVID RABE

Plays

Cosmologies

A Question of Mercy

(based on the diary of Richard Selzer)

Those the River Keeps

Hurlyburly

Goose and Tomtom

In the Boom Boom Room

The Vietnam Plays

Streamers

The Orphan

Sticks and Bones

The Basic Training of Pavlo Hummel

Fiction

Dinosaurs on the Roof

A Primitive Heart

Recital of the Dog

Children’s Books

Mr. Wellington

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Black Monk copyright © 2004 by David Rabe Based on a literal translation provided by Erika Warmbrunn of the story by Anton Chekhov.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster trade paperback edition July 2009

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Designed by Jaime Putorti

Manufactured in the United States of America

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Rabe, David.

The black monk ; and, The dog problem : two plays / David Rabe.

p. cm.

I. Rabe, David. Dog problem. II. Title.

PS3568.A23B53 2009

812’.54—dc22

2009017588

ISBN 978-1-4391-4188-5 (trade pbk.)

eISBN: 978-1-4516-4602-3

Contents

ACT ONE

ACT TWO

For Marsha, my sister

and first scene partner

CAST FROM ORIGINAL PRODUCTION

The Yale Repertory Theatre (James Bundy, Artistic Director; Victoria Nolan, Managing Director; Mark Bly, Associate Artistic Director) in New Haven, Connecticut on May 9, 2003. Directed by Daniel Fish; scenic design by Christine Jones; costume design by Jane Greenwood; lighting design by Stephen Strawbridge; music and sound design by Leah Gelpe; stage manager, Karen Quisenberry.

The text of this edition of The Black Monk was revised in cooperation with The Undermain Theatre production that opened in Dallas, Texas, on April 4, 2009.

The Undermain Theatre (Katherine Owens, Artistic Director; Bruce DuBose, Executive Producer; Suzanne Thomas, Associate Producer) in Dallas, Texas, on April 4, 2009. Directed by Katherine Owens; scenic design by John Arnone; costume design by Bryan Wofford; lighting design by Steve Woods; scenic artists, Linda Noland and Robert Winn; music and sound design by Bruce DuBose; assistant scenic designer, Jeffrey Franks; assistant director, Lily Janiak; stage manager, Stew Awalt.

CAST

Principals (in order of appearance)

YEGOR SEMYONITCH PESOTSKY—renowned horticulturist, in his sixties, owner of a flourishing estate.

TANYA—Pesotsky’s daughter, a childhood friend to Kovrin. She’s in her twenties.

ORLOV—a valet—elderly, earnest, and put-upon.

ANDREI VASILICH KOVRIN—scholar and idealist in his thirties, an orphan raised by Pesotsky.

THE BLACK MONK—a visitor, a trickster, a friend.

VARVARA NIKOLAEVNA—strong and bolstering, in her forties or fifties.

Ensemble

NADIA—in her twenties, a friend to Tanya, has a beautiful singing voice.

MIKHAIL—in his thirties, he is Nadia’s companion and a friend to Tanya and Pesotsky; he plays the piano.

YAKOV—in his twenties, a friend to Nadia and Mikhail, he would like to court Tanya.

The following can be doubled using actors playing Nadia, Mikhail, and Yakov, and one or two others:

CONCIERGE

BELLMAN

PEASANTS

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

Borissovka: the orchard on the estate of YEGOR SEMYONITCH PESOTSKY. Smoke rises from the ground. Peasants tend the fires, heads bowed. Pesotsky, bundled against the cold, stands raising a thermometer attached to the end of a fourteen-foot pole. He raises it high and then lowers and examines it.

PESOTSKY

Terrible, terrible.

His daughter, TANYA, and SERVANT ORLOV arrive, both bundled up, and Pesotsky looks to them.

No, no, it’s coming. The star-filled sky declares it, and look how the thermometer confirms it. Frost will come toward morning.

To Orlov, the servant.

Where is Ivan Karlitch? Why isn’t he here? Bring him here.

ORLOV

But he’s gone. They say he went to town.

PESOTSKY

Who says? No, no, no. Find him, I say, now!

TANYA

I saw him drive off, Father. He’s gone.

PESOTSKY

What kind of gardener is so idiotic that he leaves at such a moment?

He whirls to Orlov.

Find that miserable fool, I tell you, Orlov, and bring him here!

ORLOV

I will, I will, but I don’t know where he is.

ANDREI VASILICH KOVRIN enters, carrying his suitcase.

KOVRIN

Hello. Hello.

TANYA

Father. It’s Kovrin!

PESOTSKY

Has he come?

Hastening to Kovrin.

There he is! Kovrin!

But after a mere pat, he races on.

Forgive us, but your arrival brings you into the middle of our great anxiety.

KOVRIN

Yegor Semyonitch, whatever your mood, I am overjoyed to see you. What’s the trouble?

PESOTSKY

Our bitter enemy is upon us.

TANYA

It’s the frost, we’re afraid of the frost, and Father says it must come by morning.

PESOTSKY

There is no doubt. And our wretched gardener has abandoned us.

Nearby, a peasant has fallen to his side in sleep, and Pesotsky pokes him with the stick to wake him.

But what else should I expect from these shiftless creatures who care only for vodka and the quickest road away from their duty.

KOVRIN

Tanya, take my hand.

He reaches out and she moves to greet him, but Pesotsky sweeps her away.

PESOTSKY

The hour is most inopportune, Kovrin! The fires must not go out, and so we haven’t a second to attend you fully.

KOVRIN

Ignore me in every way. I don’t care. I am glad to be here, whatever the crisis.

PESOTSKY

Let me hug you. Let me hug you.

Hurrying back to hug Kovrin.

What a fine young man you are!

Studying him.

Kovrin, Kovrin, you have come. What joy I feel. But not now. Tomorrow the sun will shine. But tonight we must take up the struggle.

Moving off.

It’s sad, but the second we turn our backs, the fires will go out.

He spies another peasant fallen to his side and so must rouse him.

These lugs who eat my bread in the name of work they never do would rather sleep than save my trees.

Advancing on another drowsy peasant.

Never mind that damage from the frost could cost me thousands in good money, and then who would buy their bread for them?

The peasant rouses himself as Pesotsky nears.

Not that money can measure the value of the orchard. There’s no fortune in the world, no matter how vast, that could make up for the loss of one little tree!

KOVRIN

What can I do? Assign me a task. I want to help.

TANYA

But you must be ready to drop, Kovrin. You’ve been traveling for days.

KOVRIN

I should be tired, I suppose. But I’m not!

PESOTSKY

Good Lord, she’s right. Be honest—you must be hungry and worn out after your journey. Forgive our rudeness, but we are embattled.

Addressing Tanya.

I’ll take first shift, Tanya, and you see Kovrin to his room.

KOVRIN

Actually, I’m not ready for bed.

TANYA

I’m very much awake, too, Father. I don’t think I could sleep at all right now.

PESOTSKY

No, no, no, Tanya, you look like you haven’t slept in days.

TANYA

You’re the one who looks a wreck, Father. Tell him, Kovrin.

PESOTSKY

Is she right?

KOVRIN

Well, I must—

PESOTSKY

Oh, don’t say it. I surrender. I’m too tired to argue. But I’ll come to you at three o’clock, Tanya.

He hands her the thermometer on the stick.

And then you can sleep in the morning as long as you want.

Picking up the suitcase, and starting off.

Kovrin, come along. If I can’t be the perfect host, at least I can brew some tea and show you to your room.

KOVRIN

Yegor Semyonitch, I guess I didn’t make my point. Just to be here—to see you both—I feel somewhat ardent. Even wild. I want to stay with Tanya.

PESOTSKY

But … you’re our guest.

KOVRIN

I’m asking. You know you’re going to go to sleep and that will leave me all by myself, when all I want is to be with at least one of you now that I am here.

PESOTSKY

Do you know, I think I said it, but if I didn’t, I will say it now—I’m too tired to argue. Anyway, it’s a fine idea. You will keep her company. But take my coat. It’s cold and getting colder.

Removing his coat, he helps Kovrin put it on.

Look at you. Let me give you one more hug before I go.

And he does.

There, there. Yes it’s you, Kovrin. Goodnight.

Grabbing the suitcase, moving off.

KOVRIN

Goodnight.

PESOTSKY

Yes, yes. Goodnight to the two of you. Protect my wonderful trees. They sprout from my soul, you know.

TANYA

Goodnight, Father.

Watching, as Kovrin looks after Pesotsky.

Welcome to Borissovka. You come for vacation and are put to work without sleep.

KOVRIN

I think it must be said, Tanya, that I volunteered.

TANYA

We both did. Let’s walk. As father said, I must march about as a kind of sentry.

She moves off, and he joins her.

KOVRIN

Well, good. I’m ready for anything. But what is it we’re doing again?

TANYA

Protecting the orchard from the frost.

KOVRIN

By walking about among these trees in their regimented rows?

TANYA

Kovrin, it’s the fires. We need the smoke.

KOVRIN

Well, of course. We must have black thick smoke.

TANYA

Not us. The trees. Kovrin, certainly you remember that cloudy weather protects the trees, because of how it keeps away the morning frost, and so when the sky is clear, we must provide the clouds.

KOVRIN

Was this true when I was a child?

TANYA

Yes, Kovrin. It’s a fact, but apparently one you and your fancy friends at the university have no interest in.

KOVRIN

Halting as she walks on.

I think I need a moment. Have I come to the wrong estate? Who are you?

TANYA

Oh, stop it.

KOVRIN

No, no, I must find out. Such a serious face, a little pale with the cold. Such fine dark eyebrows. Wait, wait—let me look. Good heavens. It’s Tanya Pesotsky, and she’s all grown up.

TANYA

You’ve been gone eight years, you know.

KOVRIN

Seven.

TANYA

Eight, Kovrin.

KOVRIN

Whatever it is—in my mind I see you as I last saw you. Scrawny, long-legged, your hair flopping around your shoulders, so that—

TANYA

I know! So that I looked like a heron.

KOVRIN

Yes, a skinny, long-legged heron!

TANYA

Are you going to start it up again?

KOVRIN

But it is what you looked like.

TANYA

And now?

KOVRIN

No. No more.

TANYA

It bursts out of her.

Are we still your kindred people, Andryusha? I have to know.

KOVRIN

What?

TANYA

You’re off with your wonderful, fascinating life away in Moscow at the university! But please tell me you don’t feel you’ve outgrown us. I want so much to have you still think of us as your family.

KOVRIN

Of course I do.

TANYA

Be honest.

KOVRIN

Tanya, the way your father and you took me in when I had no one, after my mother … I have no other family.

TANYA

Because Father considers you his son—I know it—not his blood son, of course, but somehow his own. I have to warn you not to be too surprised when you see all the photographs. Just be prepared.

KOVRIN

What photographs?

TANYA

Spotting a nearby sleeping peasant.

Look at that sleeping donkey.

She moves to the peasant, pokes him.

You! You! Wake up and stay awake. You cannot let the fires go out!

PEASANT ONE

I’m sorry.

TANYA

Just do your duty.

To Kovrin.

Now you see